


Tying Up Loose Ends

by Icecat62



Series: The Business [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Budding Love, F/M, Gen, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icecat62/pseuds/Icecat62
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thatcher sits with Fraser at the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tying Up Loose Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Unfinished Business.
> 
> Originally posted on RedSuitsYou@onelist.com 10/23/2000.

He was floating in a sea of pain. Each breath was labored. A jumble of sounds and scents assaulted his senses, then mercifully everything went black, sending him into a dark comforting cocoon.

The sounds came to him again. An electronic like chirping, sharp scents and the hum of a lullaby. *Mum?* The darkness claimed him once more.

He drifted in and out, not knowing where he was or what had happened. All he knew was the sharp pain that radiated from the center of his chest and the soothing sound of a woman's voice as she hummed a song over and over. That too faded to nothing.

The sound was more defined this time and he felt something other than pain. Fingers brushed back his hair, lightly touching his cheek. His mother was the only person who had ever touched him like this. His mother was the only one who loved him.

The soft lilting voice sang a childhood melody that only his mother knew was his favorite. He had never talked to any one about her. Not his Dad. Not to Ray. No one knew just how special she was to him. *I'm dead. It has to be Mum.*

For the past twenty-nine years no one had loved him. To feel his mothers touch once more brought a feeling of contentment he hadn't felt since he was a small child. Giving a soft sigh, the sounds and his thoughts ceased again.

Thatcher sat next to the bed, her eyes looking over Fraser's face. He was too pale, even for him. The dark shadows under his eyes were pronounced. Each time he moved, she would gently stroke her fingers through his hair. Soft, like dark brown silk, she let it slip through her fingers. So many times in the past she had wanted to touch him like this. She had wanted to reach out to him, but she always held back.

Without even thinking about it, she began to hum a lullaby. The soothing tune along with her touch seemed to calm Fraser's tossing and turning. Several times she had thought he would wake up and look at her, apologizing again for their missed lunch.

"Mum?" His voice was barely a whisper as he shifted on the bed.

She resisted the urge to hug him, knowing that he wouldn't feel it and worrying about causing him additional pain if he did. He was one of the strongest people she had ever met and here he was asking for his mother. With a sad smile, she continued the song, this time singing the words as she gently stroked his hair.

Ray peeked in the room. He wasn't surprised by what he found. For the past two days, Thatcher had remained by Fraser's bedside, surprising everyone but him. Frannie was livid because Thatcher was 'hogging' all of the visitor time. Turnbull was confused, but when was that any different than normal?

Thatcher never left Turnbull in charge of anything, so it came as quite a shock that he was now running the Consulate on his own. Ray and everyone else were pretty surprised that the normally flustered Mountie had stepped up to the task and was doing just fine.

Taking a step into the room, Ray talked in a low voice. "Nice song Inspector."

Without looking away from Fraser, she answered him. "He's been talking in his sleep. He wants his mother."

Pulling up a chair, Ray sat on the other side of the bed. He took Fraser's hand, lightly squeezing it. "Hey Benny. Everyone at the precinct says hi."

He ran a thumb over the back of the cold lifeless hand. "Did he wake up? Even for a little bit?"

She frowned. "No."

They sat in silence, each holding one of Fraser's hands, trying to send a message to him. He was missed. He was loved.

**********

The sounds came again and with them, a tremendous crushing pain in his chest. Thoughts flooded his mind. Thatcher and him walking out of the precinct. A man with a gun. He was shot. The entire event came back to him. Forcing his eyes open, he saw nothing, then slowly some forms began to come into focus. It was obviously night time. He said a quick thank you that he wasn't blind.

In trying to move, he gasped, holding an arm weakly to his chest, finding that the action only caused more pain. He had been shot before. He knew what the pain felt like, but this was the worst he had ever experienced. Being shot in the back didn't even begin to compare to what he was feeling now.

Trying to remain as still as possible, he shifted his eyes about the room. A form came into focus next to the bed. Slumped over in a chair was a woman. Leaning forward slightly, he let a soft moan slip. The pain was unbearable. Staring at her, he tried to place who it was. As his eyes rested on the woman's hands, he blinked in confusion. It was Thatcher. He felt his heart beating faster. Thatcher was by his bedside, not Ray.

He held his breath as she shifted her position, sitting up straight, she stretched her arms above her head. Her eyes drifted to his face and a look of shock came across her features as she saw him looking back at her. "Fraser?"

He tried speaking, but his voice came out garbled. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton.

She jumped out of her seat and flicked the small overhead light on, causing him to closed his eyes to the light. He blinked several times before his vision adjusted to its brightness.

Thatcher in the mean time, had poured him small cup of water, raising it to his lips, she urged him to drink. "Take a small sip. That's it." Her touch was light, her face concerned.

He drank a small amount of the water, feeling the cotton leave his mouth. "Thank you." Even to his own ears, he sounded pathetically weak. Leaning back against the pillow, he watched her as she hit the call button for the nurse, her eyes never leaving his face.

A nurse came into the room and asked him the standard questions. What was his name, what year was it. When she indicated Thatcher, he saw how she stared at him in apprehension. "She's Inspector Thatcher, my superior officer." Her face went blank at his statement.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to notify Detective Vecchio that you're awake." She ignored the phone by his bedside and walked out of the room, leaving Fraser with the nurse.

He felt himself being poked and prodded. Each time she asked if this hurt, he wanted to yell at her, 'Yes it hurts and would you kindly not do that again!'. Of course he only gave a weak 'yes' or 'no'.

Satisfied that he wasn't brain damaged or in dire need of emergency medical attention, she gave him a smile and patted his arm. Taking his chart, she scribbled a few things down. "Doctor McCoy will be with you in a bit. If you need anything, just push that button and I'll be here in a snap." With another perky smile, she left him alone.

Alone. Always alone. Sighing, he looked around the empty room, feeling Thatcher's absence more than he cared to admit. It wasn't like he had never spent time alone in a hospital. Before Ray had come into his life, every other visit to the hospital was spent alone. He never woke up to find someone waiting by his bedside. All he ever found were a few flowers and maybe a note or two. If he were lucky, there would be a telegram from his father, telling him to buck up and get out of bed.

He heard her footsteps as she came down the hall toward his room. Thatcher's confident stride echoed down the empty hall, then it faltered as she drew near. When she stopped only meters from the doorway, he frowned. Why was she stopping? Why wasn't she coming back? Suddenly the footsteps started again, once more confident.

Thatcher strode into his room, a tight smile on her face. "Well Constable, I've notified Detective Vecchio of your condition and he's on his way over. I hope you don't mind, but I need to get home. It is rather late and I have much to do at the Consulate tomorrow." Turning sharply on her heal, she began to leave, only to be stopped by his voice.

"Meg?"

She stood in the door way, taking a calming breath before turning to face him. "Yes Fraser?"

He hesitated. What if what he felt was wrong? What if she had only been in his room for a few hours? It was possible for clothing to wrinkle like that in a matter of hours instead of days. She could have switched shampoos, causing her hair to appear dirty. There were so many what ifs, but the ones he wanted to hear from her were not denials. He decide to play it safe. As usual.

"Could you possibly stay with me until Ray arrives?"

She gave him that same disappointed look that she had earlier. "Yes...if you wish."

Walking to the chair that he had found her asleep in, she sat back down, rubbing at a crick in her neck. Looking at Fraser, she found him studying her. She quickly turned her head away, trying to ignore the look of hurt in his eyes.

She wanted to reach out to him, do what Vecchio had said. Give him a chance. Instead, she pushed her feelings down. Feelings always lead to trouble. Feelings had caused her to struggle throughout her years in the RCMP. Feelings would only hurt her chances to get out of Chicago. Her head jerked back around as Fraser groaned loudly. The fool was trying to sit up!

"What do you think you're doing!" She yelled at him, but at the same time, she grasped him by the arm, helping him sit up. "Fraser, you need to lie still. You could injure yourself further doing something foolish like this." Without thinking, she fluffed the pillow behind him, smoothing the hair across his brow. She had done it so many times in the past few days, it had become automatic.

Catching herself, Thatcher snatched her hand away from Fraser like she had been burnt. "I'm sorry..."

He reached out a hand, wrapping his fingers around hers. She resisted the urge to pull away from him. Swallowing nervously, she returned his weak grip, gently squeezing his hand. He gave her a curious look.

"May I ask a question?"

Realizing that she had been holding her breath, Thatcher slowly exhaled. "Yes."

He seemed uncertain, almost embarrassed. "Did you...were you...with me...since I was injured?"

Tell him the truth or lie? Lying wasn't in her nature. She despised liars. They were the scourge of the earth as far as she was concerned. Now deception wasn't lying. It was learning to mask the truth to your advantage.

"Yes, I was here for some time."

He cocked his head to the side, like a dog hearing something only they could hear. She knew his keen mind was mulling her words over. She knew that he knew she wasn't saying what was the total truth. As he stared at her, she fidgeted. Pulling her hand away from his, she began to pace the room.

Her voice was angry as she yelled at him. "Yes I've been here the entire time! I've sat by your side waiting for you to wake up. My back hurts, my neck is stiff and I need a bath! Is that what you wanted to hear!"

The smile on his face startled her. She had expected him to mumble an apology, not smile at her. His smile widened as she glared at him.

"Why are you smiling at me?!"

He tucked his head down, the hand that had held hers was now nervously picking at the thin blanket that covered him.

"Well? I'm waiting for an answer." She crossed her arms and stood over him.

When he looked back at her, there were tears in his eyes. His voice was a whisper. "You do care. I wasn't wrong."

Letting her arms drop to her side, she flopped in the chair beside him. Running a hand through her hair, she closed her eyes, trying to wish all of this away. Commanding officers didn't fall for their junior officers. Inspectors didn't love their Constables. Unfortunately, she never followed convention. She always had to be different. Away the rebel.

Looking directly at him, she frowned. "Yes Fraser, I do care. More than I'd like to admit. It's just...I don't want..." Her voice faded. "Hell...I didn't want this. As soon as I saw your file, I wanted to hate you. The moment I met you, I wanted to kiss you. Does that make any sense?"

Fraser reached a hand out to her, ignoring the pain that exploded in his chest as he did it. He needed to feel her touch. As her fingers intertwined with his, he breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he could hold onto her, she would stay. His voice was shaky and weak.

"From the moment you fired me, I knew you'd be a part of my life, good or bad. You were someone who was...my match. Others...they would...they couldn't deal with how I am. You could. That's how I knew."

Her grip tightened. She found herself blinking back tears, feeling her chest tighten. Without even thinking, she stood. Moving to the bed, she reached down and hugged him. Very carefully.

Without knowing it, her hug tightened to the point that Fraser was having trouble breathing. His chest felt like it was on fire, but he wasn't about to let her know. It was worth the pain to feel her arms around him. When she started crying, he maneuvered his arms around her the best he could, damning the iv that got in the way.

"I thought you were dead." Taking a deep breath, Thatcher tried to control the sobs that spilled from her, but failed miserably. "I thought...I thought I had lost you.

Fraser found himself tearing up, both in pain and in happiness. "I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere...at least like this."

She pulled back slightly from him, laughing between her tears. Her face fell as she saw the pain in his eyes.

"Oh God, Ben...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Her eyes darkened. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain?"

He smiled slightly. "Why didn't you tell me you cared?" Raising an eyebrow at her, he laughed at her expression, clutching a hand to his chest. That action caused him to double over, which hurt even more.

"Will you stop it! If you don't calm down, you'll tear something."

His strained voice still held a bit of humor in it. "Yes Meg."

Shaking her head, Thatcher sat on the edge of the bed, just looking at him, holding his hand in hers. Feeling his quiet strength.

"You do know that this will be difficult."

He nodded his head slightly. "Yes, but I believe that we can balance it."

They sat silently watching one another. His eyes slowly began to close. He forced them open, trying to stay awake, not wanting to fall asleep, afraid that this was a dream.

"Ben...go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

How could she read him so easily? With a feeling of contentment, he let his eyelids close. She would be there when he woke up, just like she was the first time. She wasn't going anywhere.

**********

Ray skidded to a halt outside of Fraser's room, seeing Thatcher sitting on the bed holding Fraser's hand, gently brushing her other hand through his hair. Bending over, he tried catching his breath. Thatcher turned to look at him. He grinned at her. "Took the stairs...didn't wanna wait...for the elevator." 

After catching his breath, Ray walked into the room, noting Fraser's pale face, tightly drawn in pain even in sleep. "I thought you said he was awake?"

She smiled. "He was. We talked a bit too much. I tired him out."

"Yeah, he always wanted you to tire him out." Ray flinched as he spoke, knowing that once again, he voiced his inner thoughts before thinking. 

Thatcher's eyes flashed angrily at him. "Do you always have to be so crass?

"Sorry." With a wicked grin, he walked closer to Fraser, sitting in the chair beside him. "It's true though."

Thatcher snorted and looked back at Fraser, choosing to ignore Ray.

"So what did he say? Is he feeling okay? What about you two?"

Fraser chose that moment to wake up again. Looking from Thatcher to Ray, he smiled tiredly. Waking up to find the two people that he cared the most about was a pleasure indeed. "Hello Ray." 

Ray's head snapped down, a bright smile split his face. "It's about time you woke up. You had us worried sick."

"I'm sorry."

"Uh huh. I don't know what it is about you, but if you can't find trouble, it always manages to find you." Still smiling, Ray nudged Fraser's arm. "So you and Meg are together huh?" 

Fraser looked from Ray and then to Thatcher who rolled her eyes. Trying to not overstep his boundaries in their new relationship, he kept silent.

"It's all right Ben. He knows."

"Ah." 

Ray watched them closely, seeing the bond between them growing already. What had once been a thin filament, was now changing. He shook his head at the image of Fraser with a chain around his ankle and Thatcher attached to it. Still smiling, he quickly stood. "I'm gonna' go now. I just wanted to stop and see how you were doin'."

Both Thatcher and Fraser opened their mouths in protest, but he cut them off. "I have to work tomorrow and she doesn't. Turnbull's been runnin' the place. Me. I have no one to cover for me. I'll see ya' tomorrow mornin' before I go to work." 

Leaning down, Ray gently hugged Fraser, whispering to him. "Glad you're back Benny."

Waving goodbye, Ray hurried out of the room, smiling to himself. He was slick. That was one way to keep Thatcher with Fraser for another night. This time Fraser would be awake to keep her company. This time they could talk.

Fraser watched Ray disappear from the room. Turning to Thatcher, he gave her a surprised look. "Turnbull is running the Consulate?" She more than cared for him if she was willing to leave the Consulate in Turnbull's hands. It meant she loved him.

She gave him an embarrassed smile, shrugging her shoulders. "I had something more important to attend to."

Leaning down, she placed a light kiss on lips. Pulling back, she cleared her throat, suppressing a smile at Fraser's now pink tinged cheeks. To think she had to almost lose Fraser, to finally get him. Life sure was funny sometimes. Settling herself next to him, she tried to think of a way to get Fraser to stay at her apartment while he recuperated. They had too much too talk about. Plus she didn't want Frannie Vecchio getting anywhere near 'her' Mountie.

END


End file.
